Just Let Me Sleep
by spadetje
Summary: One shot. Rufus Shinra struggles with insomnia and slight alcoholism.


**Just let me sleep  
  
By:** spadetje**  
  
Rating:** PG**  
  
Disclaimer: **I don't own them, whatever. I do own the story though!  
  
**A/N:** Do I ever love Canon fics, even though this one could or could not be. (Well, not the end anyway.) Enjoy, please.  
  
_"Watch the clock on the wall  
Feel the slowing of time  
Hear a voice in the hall  
Echoing in my mind..."  
- Depeche Mode_  
--

_Exhaustion._  
  
The drum of another glass tossed carelessly on the hard surface echoed throughout the empty room, breaking the pervasive silence that his sober voice had commanded for earlier that evening. The glass wobbled, tipsy on it's delicate base with fancy Shinra ridges, deciding whether or not to stay up straight and endure another wash of alcohol. Bloodshot eyes stared groggily, completely focused at the gyratory spectacle.  
  
He had so much work to do. Petty affairs, in truth. Statistical reports, diplomatic letters. How many had been killed during the Sector 7 crash? Cut the percent in half and put those Avalanche terrorists to shame. Seal it up, send it away, and as always the Shinra Electric Power Company has the public loyal, back in their Mako pumped apartments staring out at his logo in satisfaction._  
  
And then, a thousand beetles and cockroaches run toward me, claw at my eyes until my alcohol stained blood runs down my face and on to the floor..._

Yes, somewhere during the night, he'd popped a cork off several bottles of liquor; particularly his personal favorite--Shinra Gin.

The glass came to a halt, standing upright as if waiting for orders. Cold blue eyes latched on to the movement and held for a while after it had stopped in a fatigue-induced trance. Trigger familiar fingers clenched straying blond tufts, his habit of flicking away the light strands neglected by the combination of alcohol and exhaustion._  
  
They've never seen me bleed or cry.  
Have they ever seen me sleep?  
  
_He disregarded time, found it unreliable. A slow memory of tossing his father's old digital clock in the office garbage bin crept into his mind as a tinge of curiosity at what time it was hit him. Not that he could read the clock as it were; he'd already gotten to that stage of intoxication where small numbers were illegible._  
  
Sleep._

Sure, he slept. The occasional night without disruption would provide an almost full eight hours; but the sleep was restless, never completely satisfying. Toss and turn in the king sized bed all night with nothing on the mind, yes, he found the little bits he'd doze off during the day more effective than forcing himself to unconsciousness with pills or exhaustion.

His blurred eyes still stared at the empty glass on the desk, too tired to open them and too tired to close them. It felt like daytime, although with the ominous Meteor emanating red light like a second sun, he could never be sure.  
  
When was the last time he'd slept a full night? Every night it was something different to keep him awake. Alarms - that irritating Shinra wail along with the computerized voice. Paperwork such as tonight that couldn't wait until the next morning. Thoughts, worries, problems, alcohol. Women, Elena, Scarlet, the random Honeybee whore. His father yelling, yelling at his mother.  
  
His hand now too turned a fist, grasping the hair so tightly that without the numbing night of drinks it would have made him wince. _It burns. _On an empty stomach, liquor acts as fuel to the fire._  
  
_President Rufus Shinra rose, and as he did so, the world seemed to rise with him. He hadn't thought he'd drank enough to ensure dizziness, but seeing so he sat down and pulled the glass toward him. The slight scraping of glass over metal pierced through his mind and he turned his head in disgust.  
  
_That screeching sound of metal, the pillars falling down, bolts loosening, crushing hundred of populated buildings, homes, streets. That screech of metal on metal, the automatic door opening, squeezing his eyes shut in annoyance and hollering for a new door. That screech of metal on stone, Sephiroth's blade dragging across the President's desk.  
  
_"Ugh."  
  
Picking up the glass he glared at his poison then poured the Shinra Gin into the glass, watching the company logo start to disappear at the bottom of the glass. He poured faster._  
  
Go away, go away, let me sleep, _Shinra.  
  
As the glass filled he could still see the accursed logo; _no matter how hard I try, I can never get away from you_. He continued to pour as the clear liquid spilled onto the table and over his fallacious letters, the ink smudging the wet paper and ruining his all-nighter work. Pushing over the glass in anger, he watched it fall and for a desperate moment an instinct of saving his last glass came over him as he knew it would be the swallow that knocked him over; and although it was unsatisfying drunken sleep, it was sleep.  
  
Ignoring his thoughts he watched the liquid crawl off the table and pour in a pool on the floor and turned away to the window. Stumbling over, he made it to the large window overlooking the sleeping city. His city. His enormous building just in the centre of the metropolis, surrounded by his eight Mako Reactors, sucking up the planet's energy minute by minute, life by life.  
  
A shuffling through white pockets produced a thin cigarette paired with a Shinra tattooed lighter. Lighting up, the gray hazy smoke rose above his blonde hair as he stared out the window at the brightly illuminated midnight Midgar.  
  
He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, each breath relaxing his tense muscles, each puff of smoke relieving his constant pounding headache. Envy of the millions of sleeping people burrowed his eyebrows, darkened his eyes.  
  
"Ironic," he mused to himself aloud, "how I have everything they want; I own them; I run their lives; I take their money yet they all have something I can never buy with gil."  
  
Weariness dropped his lit fag and he watched it fall to the floor helplessly. Unable to put his tired body through any energy expending motion, he slumped his head against the window. The only sound throughout the empty office was the spilt liquor dripping, dripping, splashing, pooling an insanity towards the large window overlooking the city. Creeping nearer, he didn't even hear the swish of a line of fire, the crackle of inflamed letters or his several data compacted computers ignite and combust in the air. He barely felt the noise shatter the glass, the fire licking at his signature white ensemble. His world was tiringly calm.  
  
In leaning and staring desperately, eyes dry and burning for dreaming unconsciousness, rest, recovery, Rufus Shinra could only think of four final words._  
  
Just let me sleep._

---  
  
The end.  
So, what do you think?


End file.
